


Voicemail

by surexit



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:56:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surexit/pseuds/surexit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray leaves a voicemail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voicemail

Ray leaves voicemails all the fucking time, it's like he's incapable of calculating the time difference between Oceanside and Portsmouth, despite repeated reminders. This one is as rambling as the rest.

"Homes! Bradley fucking Colbert! Have I called while you're asleep again? Or don't you like me anymore? You're breaking my heart, Brad, it's like you don't want to talk to me." There's the sound of tapping keys in the background, and then Ray says, "Oh, I guess you're probably asleep. That's good, I was thinking about cancelling the wedding, and that would send all this work I've done on flower arrangements down the motherfucking drain." He pauses, and Brad can hear the familiar creak of him tipping himself back on his chair, can suddenly sharply visualise Ray in the office at home, surrounded by horrifyingly unstable piles of books. When he speaks again, his voice is threaded through with laughter. "Oh my fucking God, if we ever did get married, please can I be in charge of flower arrangements? I think I'd be the _best_ , can you imagine." There's a slight laugh, and then he says, "You're imagining right now, aren't you? I can picture your face, Bradley Colbert, and I'm saddened by your lack of faith in me." Brad finds himself smiling, just a little, because Ray's entirely right - his face was moulding itself into less-than-thrilled lines.

When Ray speaks again, after a moment where he just breathes comfortably on the end of the line, he says, "So! I'm going to try to call you later, when you're awake, and you better fucking pick up, Colbert, or I will start to develop a complex. But yeah, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite, those motherfuckers are probably all over the place in England. And, like..." He trails off, and Brad can fit the words he sometimes wants to hear into the space Ray leaves, and he knows that's deliberate.

"Talk to you later. Stay frosty."


End file.
